This is what our city has become? This is what we are as a Kingdom?
Murder and destruction fill the streets at the very beating heart of our Kingdom and yet the nobility cannot stop it. The only knight here is acting only to perpetuate the very slaughter that he has vowed to prevent.
The little hope that had persisted within me since the very day that I died is slowly decaying into darkness.
My kingdom is dead, shambling onward as if a corpse raised from the dead.
“What’s happening?” Lord Pearl asks, still standing over the corpse of the vampire who acted as if it were one of his children. “Who was that child? We have… how many children? What’s… what’s happening? I… she came here, and she… she was always here…”
He’s breaking down without even noticing the slaughter that has spread out over his gardens, trampling all the beautiful flowers.
The vampire that was walking among us disguised as one of the children of this house, is now dead. She was powerful, but I can’t tell too much considering how quickly she was slain. From the parents’ reaction, I have to assume that none of their kids were murdered to give room to the monster, and it’s instead seeded itself into their family through some sort of illusion that has lasted even into the light.
Which just shows how much weaker I am in comparison. I could not have done the same.
This is important to note since a small army of vampires has gathered outside. Each is more powerful than myself, and more practised with those powers.
Merry is making a good effort to fight against the vampires, but his people are trying to protect too many unarmed citizens and they’re spread too thin. The lights and fire can only achieve so much against an army of this size and Merry’s strange magic has limits of its own.
If the enemy surrounding us feel pressured by the delay that he buys for us, then they do not show it in their actions. Sunrise is still a long way off, and they act as if convinced that no salvation will come for us. No knights or guards will rush to save us, perhaps pressured into inaction, or outright murdered before this began.
The vampires are going about the slaughter leisurely, allowing the despair and fear to fester in the thousands of hopeless and helpless survivors.
I was under the impression that there were relatively few vampires in this city, and if that is true, then I must assume that most of my peers are here with me this evening. The vampire who hunted us in the manor said that this was a feast, that this was meant to forge more of our vampiric kind and strengthen the ones who already exist.
What happens after?
What does Aldramodore need an army for?
“The knight,” Reeve Lewark looks out over the field, leaning on his cane as he takes in the sight. He is serious, but he is not lost in hopelessness. “Can anyone here stop him?”
We all turn to the man with the æther veins covering his skin. The strings of paint that adorn his bronzed flesh is already showing wear if I look at it closely.
He shakes his head waving his hands around defensively.
“It’s fake! I’m the bait,” he says. “I can barely even fight!”
“You brought someone completely useless to this hunt” I turn to Jake.
“Our best were meant to join us before the walls came up. They were out here,” the gang leader says, looking out into the violence. “There are still a few of them, but no one who could face a knight.”
“If we cannot fight him, then we need to disable the knight,” Lewark says, shaking his head. “If he gets serious we are all dead. If we are to believe the vampire from a moment ago, then I can only suppose that this knight is holding back to give the vampires a chance to feed…”
The battle against the knight is not going well.
I can’t fathom why there are ghouls here fighting against him, but I haven’t the time to find an answer. They do not fight for long.
The ghouls that are sent against him are cut down in but a few moments, even undead as they are, they can’t keep fighting when they are but scattered parts on the ground. The knight pauses only a moment to look around him, before turning his attention back to the elf who’s been assaulted by a vampire.
I can’t make out the details of their struggle but it is over quickly with the vampire retreating.
Another of the survivors is raising mud golems to fight alongside the elf, even adding threads into the creation for some reason. Whatever they are doing won’t be enough to slow a proper knight.
“I will deal with him,” I say, stepping into the light and gripping my new dagger. Its frost isn’t enough to aid me against vampires, but this knight is not a vampire. Even from this distance as much is clear.
I just need to slip the blade through a gap in his armour. I’m not a talented brawler or knife fighter, but I do not plan on doing this as a street fighter would.
“Tina?” Belle pulls at my sleeve. “You can’t beat him… You’re not strong enough…”
“I’m not strong enough, no,” I admit.
Her eyes swirl in the light of the thousands of magics that are risen above us. She bites her lip to try and hide a frown, her grip on me tightening as she shudders a desperate breath in the same moment as the clashing blades of the knight.
The golems are already fallen, and the elf barely is surviving against the knight.
“She’s not strong enough,” I say, waving to the strangely dressed elf. “Yet she still fights, does she not?”
The young warrior raises two short swords to deflect the knight’s attack, they clatter loudly as she barely manages to push the blade away from herself. Her clothes show far too much skin for my comfort, and that skin is much too dark for most elves, but her ears make her parentage clear.
Belle stands a little straighter by my side, her eyes caught on the short figure casting off the knight’s sword one more time.
The moment the knight fights us seriously, we are all dead. Whatever strength he is holding back, it must be the sort that he wishes to keep secret, or so destructive that it would leave no blood behind for his hungry allies.
While Belle is still staring, and the reeve bites his lip, stopped halfway from reaching for me, I step out to join the unwinnable battle. It is simple to walk around the edges of the thousands who have gathered behind Merry’s protective light, though the fire I keep at arm’s length could see me dead if I’m not careful.
I dress myself in an illusion as I walk, the same trick I’ve used before, and I stride with confidence into the battle still raging.
Stolen story; please report.
“Be careful,” I call out to the knight. Both he and the elf pause to take in the sight of me. “Do not trust those at your back, they are after your blood.”
A vampire rushes through the darkness at the knight’s back, charging at him without concern for his own life. My surprise is hidden by the magic masking me, while the use of ghouls tells of some conflict between the knight and the vampires, I wasn’t quite expecting this.
The knight cuts down the vampire, splitting him in two with the first strike and then four with the second.
There’s only a small moment, and he remains guarded against the elf, but he does not expect anything from me.
I rush quickly forward with my chilled dagger, letting the illusions die as they no longer serve a purpose.
I thrust my dagger up into his shoulder, under the metal plates, and press my magic through the metal blade into his flesh. The frost stored in my own body rushes out and into him, seeping into his muscle and bone. It’s likely not enough to freeze the blood in his veins, but perhaps the lingering magic could hinder his movement.
I retreat a step but before I can take another, he spins on me, lashing out too fast for me to respond.
I lose my breath and the ground underneath me in one moment. Flashes of light and colour.
Pain, fear, hope, rage.
The feelings flash in and out of existence, distant and hollow imitations of what they were.
The wooden grain of the stake and the cold steel of my dagger draw me back into the world that still spins around me.
I regain my senses, taking in the grainy textures of the wall spinning before me. It’s been scrubbed clean enough that I can see the difference between the new stone bricks and the old which still bear the cracks and stains from the war a decade ago. They’ve been repaired with magic, but not so well that the scars are gone.
The wall grows larger and larger in my sight as I fail to find an escape. I desperately claw at the rushing wind, trying to spin myself around in the air, but there’s nothing to push against and I have no wings.
I come to a stop headfirst, closing my eyes a moment before impact.
Pain.
I do not understand why the dead must still feel pain. What mad god created us to be this way? What cruel monster thought it some genius idea that we ought to suffer even when life itself has been stripped away?
I do not understand the reason we must suffer.
I awaken in darkness, the lights and sounds of battle feel so very distant from here. It is peaceful, and there is something pleasant about the silence. My magic works almost against my own will, repairing the injuries that have left me lying broken on the street.
“That was quite the amusing scene,” I turn, expecting Vael from the hint of amusement in her voice, but it is not her.
The woman’s face is pale and bloodless, and her eyes shine with a familiar light. She is one of my kind.
What is she doing so far from the battle?
The shadows around us move with a life born from the dark magics we both share, but it is by her guidance that they intrude upon the space beneath me, forcing me up onto feet that are not yet healed. I shudder as the pain runs as lighting up my body, my knees nearly failing me.
“You have the scent of ash about you,” the vampire says, looking me over. “More than a little of it. Is that a hint of Alfrisa? You were in the mansion then?”
The woman, with dark hair and a dress that wouldn’t be unsuitable for a lesser noble function, looks me over as my limbs slowly find their correct placement. My vampiric magics repair me faster than most mortals could ever hope to achieve, but that is not enough to challenge this vampire before me.
The darkness around us is dense with her magic, it is almost as if the air itself has been replaced by an essence of shadow that has taken on physical form. It moves as something between a liquid and a mist, but as it grips my arm turning up the wooden stake, it is more solid than the stone at my feet.
“You even wield a weapon that would wound our kind?” she asks, her shadows prying the wooden stake from my grasp. “Have you been given improper instructions? Perhaps Jeremy has tried to pose orders with unclear meaning again? He is always trying to incite violence in our ranks.”
“Improper instructions?” I ask, trying to pry myself from the shadows, but the darkness is unyielding. I spin together thoughts and plans but break them down just as quick, no power in my flesh or mind will turn this moment to my favour. “I have slain only enemies.”
“I do not think that you are telling me the truth…” she looks over me once more, considering me. “I was wrong about Jeremy, wasn’t I? You’re a stray. Well, I suppose it would be a waste to leave you in the wild like this. Follow.”
The last word she says as an order, summoning some alien magic born from the æther we share. It threads through me but after lingering for a few moments it dies away, torn asunder by the currents within me.
I step closer to her as if to obey her orders.
The light and fire I can summon wouldn’t be enough against the darkness she wields. I must wait for my moment, which means that I cannot allow this to become a battle just yet.
Though I obey, she still hesitates to look away from me. She slowly crushes the ash-coated, wooden stake with her darkness, looking me up and down consideringly. She has yet to introduce herself or ask my name. Even in my noble dress, she sees me as nothing worthy of such respect.
Pressing more of her ineffectual magic into me, she questions me further.
“Who is your sire? Answer honestly.”
“I do not know,” I reply immediately, acting as if compelled.
The vampires control the ghouls, and the one I killed in the mansion seemed convinced that he could be controlled by his sire. He thought himself a slave to the whims of the one who turned him. If that is the case, then perhaps she thinks to wield that power over me.
“Hmm, it matters not,” she says, shaking her head. “Your sire would have to be one of mine. Whatever strange magic you’re trying to use to disrupt my orders will not work, and your resistance will only make you suffer in the end.
“I am not resisting your orders,” I say, but just as the last word is out of my mouth a dagger slashes through my neck. It is so fast that I can’t be sure if it was steel or darkness that parts my flesh. My throat burns with pain, but I keep my expression even.
What is pain to monsters like us?
I lift a hand to steady my head while the wound heals in the darkness. It takes but a small moment for the flesh to reconnect as it was.
“You are wilful enough to resist orders, and do not flinch at the pain, perhaps it was my fortune to find you here,” she snorts a laugh. “The others are still much too human. When I do this to them, they clutch at their throats and cry out their dying despair. It is always amusing to watch.”
“Is that so?” I ask, following her as she walks the city streets. “They still pretend to retain their humanity? It is only reasonable, we’ve been human for all our lives before this, so they do not know how to be something else.”
“Yet you do,” she looks me over again. “I think I may decide to keep you. You may have considerable potential and so long as it isn’t squandered pursuing useless things. I’ll shape you into a decent servant.”
I say nothing, still seeking an opening, a chance to strike out at her, but there is nothing as far as I can see. She walks nearer to the battle, before oozing her darkness beneath us. As a solid platform, it lifts us and moves us along to the roof of a building.
I shudder, realizing her power.
The darkness is not meant to be a solid thing, yet here she uses it so casually to lift us into the sky.
“It is surprising that this is taking so long,” she comments, staring out towards the light-strewn gardens.
The battle is still ongoing, the elf is missing, likely as not dead.
The knight is slaying another earthen golem, the survivors have struggled to put together as many as they can to hold him back. Meanwhile, they are working to build something larger.
“A giant mud golem?” she comments, staring at a massive golem the size of a house. It’s being constructed in the centre of the circle of light, thousands of survivors are working together to create it, and even Lewark is helping them.
I can’t see Belle anywhere, but I’m sure that she’s playing her part in this.
“They must be seeking to bury our knight,” she chuckles. “While I’d quite like to see that, Aldramodore wouldn’t be happy if anyone escaped this event. I suppose I’ll have to stop them.”
She waves a hand forward, and the darkness twists around itself at her will. The shadows around the giant golem deepen as her magic warps into existence around it, solidified darkness sizzles and wars against the weak lights, but she does not linger in her actions.
The pet shadows wrap themselves around a pair who work near the golem’s legs. The two are hidden from sight for but a moment before the shadows collapse and fade away under the light, returning to the side of their master with the two stolen mages.
The elf, a proper elf unlike the one who fought the knight, squeals and tries to move but unyielding shackles have already formed around her hands. The norkit by her side is frozen, her eyes wide and ears flicking about as she tries to pry apart the darkness.
“Olive, what’s happening?!” The pale-skinned elf calls out.
“Anna!” The norkit cries back.
“They are not as strong as I like them,” the vampire says, staring at the elf. “I am not so glutinous that I cannot share. You may have the other.”
She swipes a hand across the elf’s neck, splitting it open as she has done to mine. Blood pours free, drawn out faster by the magics that she uses, with a hand held out as if to guide the flow she funnels the blood with her darkness, guiding it down her own throat.
The elf is already deathly pale, the life flickering out of her eyes.
I hesitantly approach the other as tears stream down her cheeks.
I am too weak to do what I must. Olive has tears streaming down her cheeks, the pale reflection of her dead friend reflecting in her eyes.